Tragon the Traitor
by fantasizing-fluff
Summary: Out of the mist emerges the unknown. An unseen threat to the Abbey, a strange messenger to Salamandastron. What can it mean? And will the silver skunk realize her true heritage?
1. Introduction

**Tragon the Traitor**

**Disclaimer** – I do not, in any way, shape for form, claim to be Brian Jacques. Nor am I selling this story for monetary means. I do not own the Redwall series, nor am I trying to gather credit for writing them. This applies to all chapters.

**Title** – Tragon the Traitor

**Characters** – All characters are OC

**Status** – In-Progress

**Information** – This was started when I was in grade seven. I am now starting to type and post it, and I'm near finishing grade nine. Sad, isn't it? This is not only my first Redwall fanfic, but my first fanfic ever. I can also gladly say that this is one of the few pieces of my earlier writing that when I go back and read, it doesn't make me want to cry. I'm working on a decent summary, because right now I barely remember some of the characters, let alone what happens!

**Authors** – Myself, and my friend Hayley

**Beta** – Shannakin, and green-dragon-j (who does not have an account at the moment)

**Summary** - Out of the mist emerges the unknown, an unseen threat to the Abbey, a strange messenger to Salamandastron. What can it mean? And will the silver skunk realize her true heritage?


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

A motherly skunk sat by a stream, body shaking. Tears of grief streamed down her stripped muzzle. With a blanket held in her massive paw, she looked down the stream where her precious burden had been carried off.

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Lanna Badger had been resting in the gatehouse when a sharp knock brought her back to awareness. Grumbling to herself, she hurriedly unlocked the gate. The Skipper of Otters and his burly crew hurriedly came striding in.

"Skipper, this is certainly a pleasant surprise. We didn't expect you back for another day or two." Skipper was not paying attention and shushed her.

"Quiet now mate, we just got 'er to sleep." Lanna's natural curiosity was aroused.

"What you got, Skip?" Two otters parted, showing a cradle.

"We found 'er just floatin' along in the stream. Don't look like 'ees got a mother or a father." Nestled in the blankets of the cradle was a baby skunk, pure silver. Lanna gently lifted her out. In her sleep the little skunk snuggled against Lanna's warm fur, gurgling happily.

Inspecting the cradle, Lanna discovered writing on the side. "Silvera, Silvera," she whispered to herself.

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	3. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Windrose Summersky was running away. She was tired of everybat expecting her to live up to the standards of her mother, Lady Moonrose Summersky, the queen of all Norfolk bats. Muttering aloud to herself, Rose said. "Hump, serves them right, always going, 'Windrose, sit straight, you are the princess, you know better then that!' Hump!"

She knew where she was going. The stories of Redwall had been passed down through generations, ever since the two legendary bats had passed through their mountain. A noise behind Windrose suddenly made her glance behind her. Silently she cursed her rose colored fur. She could hear her mother's bats scouts following her.

Windrose increased her flying speed, gracefully winging her way towards Redwall.

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_Extracts from the recordings of Annabella Squirrel, assistant recorder to Lanna Badger, direct descendant of Lonna Bowstripe._

My, my, poor old Lanna. She sleeps much these days. I think the seasons are catching up to her, though she never admits it. This leaves me to do most of the recording, though I try not to complain.

Our Nameday for this spring is only three days away. Friar Hummer Dryspikes is frantically working with his kitchen helpers, constantly moaning that he 'won't finish on time', though I know he will. Abbes Silvera confided in me that our new season would be called the Spring of New Awakenings. I don't know why she chose this name, but she will tell us in her own good time.

Lanna is stirring. Her stomach is probably telling her it's time for tea. That great scoffbag, she can eat more than ten bally well hares, wot wot?

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Lanna was indeed stirring. With a grunt she got up and rumbled to Annabella, "Come along Inky paws, it's almost tea-time. I bet Hummer will be serving strawberry scones with meadowcream and cool mint tea in the orchard."

"Oh shush, you great stripedog," Annabella chided, "You're making me hungry!"

The two friends walked side by side down to the orchid.

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Lord Urthstone collapsed on Salamandastron's forge room floor. His naturally blue eyes slowly lost their fiery red color and he slept.

Urthstone was awakened by the calls of his top traveling hare, Mayflower.

"My Lord, where are you?" she called.

"Urthstone, Lord Urthstone, what happened?" Mayflower cried from the door of the forge room. With much concern, she walked tenderly over to Urthstone and gently poured a drink into his mouth from her canteen.

Urthstone spluttered, the strong elderberry wine had brought him to consciousness. The first thing he saw was a vision of a great animal similar to a badger, but with stripes and a bushy tail. The vision dissolved into a female hare leaning over him. Urthstone heaved himself upright and steadied himself on his forge anvil.

Questioningly, Mayflower said, "M'lord, where in the jolly well mountain have you been? You've been missing for a whole day and night, wot?" Urthstone stared.

"At attention, Mayflower. Anything to report?"

The traveling hare snapped to attention and replied, "No sah, nothing out of the ordinary to report."

"Good," Urthstone answered, "Then gather my platoon officers in the dining hall. Continue sending out daily patrols all round the mountain. I must go now. Do not come looking for me."

With that, Lord Urthstone, Ruler of Salamandastron, swept out of the room and off towards the secret chamber.

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Tragon, Tragon the Traitor. The name struck fear in the hearts of all vermin. He commanded over five thousand ferrets, stoats, wildcats, rats, weasels, fox, wolverines raccoons, ravens, and all other manner of bad beasts.

Tragon the Traitor sat musing in his tent. He was a great lumbering wolverine, deadly as death itself. Tragon had pure black fur with one white stripe up his muzzle and around his huge, cold, grey, eyes. The traitor's silent masked murderers, raccoons, sat guarding his tent.

"Bring me my best scouts!" he spat at the nearest raccoon. The masked murdered hastened to obey. Soon, three of the best raccoons appeared at the entryway to the tent. The black mass of fur moved deeper into the inky darkness. A rumbling voice emerged from the shadows of the tent. "Travel into the three corners of the land that we have not yet searched. Do not go the way we have come." A slight waver in his voice betrayed the fear he held of the harsh, cold, barren and unforgiving north, which had taken its toll on his mother and father, leaving him for dead.

A change in the wind, causing it to shriek through the trees, brought The Traitor back to the present. "Be gone!" he cried, his voice rising to a crescendo with the wind and trees. The three scouts were gone, racing across land and tree. A shiver lanced up and down the backs of all vermin who heard the One's howl.

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	4. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Windrose was feeling light as the wind on which she was sailing, with wings outspread she pressed onwards. She had successfully escaped Batmountpit and avoided her mother's guards. She had decided to travel for a season or two until her mother got over her running away.

"Well, it wasn't really running away," she thought guiltily. "Mother knows I can take care of myself better than most bats."

So caught up in her thoughts was Windrose that she didn't see the storm looming ahead. Thunder clouds reached to the top of the sky, higher then any bat would fly.

She was jerked from her thoughts as the wind picked her up and tossed her around. Windrose battled furiously, trying unsuccessfully to gain her original path. She was as a leaf in a gale, thrown around mercilessly, and her energy ran lower with every wingflap.

Suddenly, illuminated by a lightning strike, a huge, forbidding object, rising from the ground, loomed in front of the panicking bat. Windrose tried vainly to stop herself from being thrown into the mountain, but her failing wings gave way, leaving her at the mercy of the weather. She slammed into the mountain. Her breath came out in a rush and she heard the splintering of bone in her left wing. She screamed in agony as the pain threatened to overwhelm her and the storm beat upon her limp body.

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"I say! Jolly 'orrible weather we're havin', sire, wot!" Mayflower mumbled to Urthstone. She sat in the forge room with her Badger Lord staring glumly out of the window. "When d'ya think this lot'll blow over, sah?"

"It will blow over when it's ready, missy, so stop asking silly questions!" came Urthstone's stern reply. He was going to go back to his task when Mayflower suddenly went rigid, ears standing up.

"I say, m'lord, can you 'ear that?"

Urthstone's gruff reply came ringing back. "Hear what? I don't hear anything! Your ears are far better than mine, missy."

"It sounds like somebeast screamin' over the weather." She distractedly replied, busy listening for another noise.

"Well, missy, we best go see who is screamin' and why. Lead the way." Urthstone said, putting his tools aside. Mayflower got up and cocked her head to the side for a second, then started to lead Urthstone through the mazes of passageways in Salamandastron.

"I think its coming from over there." Suggested Mayflower, pointing her paw to one of the windows along the passage.

Urthstone stuck his head through the window and searched the area around it. A brilliant lightning flash illuminated the scene before him. The great badger glanced around but saw only the rocks and boulders of his beloved mountain. He was about to turn to tell Mayflower that she was mistaken when a shriek issued from a rock and it appeared to move. Drawing his back in he agreed with Mayflower, "You're right. It looks like a bird of some kind has been thrown against the mountain. We best haul it up and out of the weather."

Windrose felt herself being lifted up by a massive paw. Half conscious, she lay, knowing she was too weak to fight. Her broken wing, trailing along the ground, crashed into a rock, causing her to cry out in pain. Windrose blacked out.

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A full head taller then Silvera, Lanna bent down and picked up the Abbess. The silver skunk squirmed.

"Let go of me, you great brute! I'm the Abbess, you know." Silvera reminded.

Annabella sank to the ground, holding her sides in laughter. Though Silvera was still young, Lanna was very fond of the child she had adopted for her own. She was proud of Silvera.

The three friends continued on there way down in the orchard where the abbybeasts had gathered to eat. Silvera stood at the head of the table, and as she opened her muzzle to say grace, the storm that had been hanging near the Abbey through the day, broke loose. It was the same storm that had blown Windrose to Salamandastron. Abbess Silvera, with the help of the other elders, hurried the younger children and dibbuns into Cavern Hole to finish their supper. Friar Hummer and his kitchen crew were still outside trying to salvage their edible creations. Lanna lumbered out to help them.

Silvera was outside, hurrying in the helpers who were brining in the last of the food when a strong knock on the main gate made everybeast stop. Silvera gestured to Lanna to open the gate. She was walking forward when a voice called out above the rain.

"Let us in, it's Skipper! We're drenched to the skin, though us otters don't mind." The way he put his last statement made Silvera pause. It sounded as if there were more than just otters with Skipper.

The gate was opened and Skipper walked in with his crew, all thoroughly soaked. Following were about twoscore woodlanders, all looking worse for wear. Skipper bowed towards the Abbess.

"Marm," he said, "let these poor beasts in. Once the little ones are in bed we need to call the elders together in the Great Hall. Important matters need to be discussed." Skipper turned, leading his crew and the woodlanders into the Abbey.

Lanna called out to her companions, "Well, come on, let's get this food inside." She turned to Silvera, who nodded. The abbeybeast quickly gathered the last of the remaining things, and hurried into the shelter of the Abbey.

Inside, Silvera called out, giving instructions, "Friar Hummer, can you put up a small supper for the dibbuns in Cavern Hole? They will need to be put to bed as soon as they are finished. We also need supper to be served in the Great Hall for the elders later." She turned to the Foremole, and asked, "Bickley, can you and the moles set up a sleeping area in Cavern Hole when the dibbuns are done with their supper?" When he nodded, the Abbess turned to the Infirmary Keeper, "Sister Margary, I will send those of the woodlanders with injuries to you. The ottercrew will assist the rest of the woodlanders in getting dried off. There should be a goodly amount of clean habits we can lend them."

Lastly, she addressed three of her companions, "Skipper, I need you to give me a full report of what has happened. Lanna, I would like you to come also. Annabella, I need you to bring ink and parchment. I want this recorded."

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_Extracts from the recordings of Annabella Squirrel, assistant recorder to Lanna Badger, direct descendant of Lonna Bowstripe._

See the previous documentation to see Skipper's account of how he and his crew came upon the twoscore woodlanders that are now taking refuge within our Abbey walls.

Abbess Silvera, Lanna, Skipper and myself are seated around a table in the Great Hall, accompanied by several members of the aforementioned band. Skipper is about to tell us his story of how he came across the twoscore beasts that he brought back to our Abbey today. I shall record the conversation and interactions as best I can.

_Abbess Silvera called for everybeasts attention. "Quiet please. You will all get a chance to voice any concerns you may have. This is a council of reason; not chaos. I will have everybeast respecting one another." She turned to the large otter seated near her. "Skipper, if you would begin?"_

_Obligingly, he nodded. "Well, me and my crew here were swimmin' through the River Moss when we came upon this 'ere band of woodlanders." He shrugged. "We jus' popped up and had a chat."_

"_Had a chat, my foot!" and indignant hare called out. "Poppin' up out o' the bally ol' river, scarin' us out of our wits! An' with us runnin' from Tragon an' all!"_

_The Abbess stared. "Tragon?" She frowned, staring at the hare._

"_Yah, 'ee nastiest vermin ever. That badbeastez got more in vermant in his command 'n 'ee leaves on 'ee trees!" a honey colored female mole spoke up._

_Skipper cleared his throat, "Abbess, might I continue?"_

_Abbess Silvera nodded, thoughtfully, and gestured for the otter to continue._

"_Well, anywho', we talked a bit with a number of the woodbeasts, and found out all abou' tha' evil beast. Tragon!" he spat the name in disgust. "I don't know all 'e details, but it seems he's headin' out way." Skipper glared darkly._

_Ever the wise peacemaker, Lanna spoke, "I'm sure we can all sort this out in the morning. It is getting late, so why don't we all go to bed and try to get some sleep?"_

_Silvera agreed. "Yes, we should. We can meet again during lunch." Turning to Annabella and Lanna, she questioned, "Could I meet with you two after breakfast? I think we'll need to have a search through the records in the gatehouse."_

And so we went to bed for the night. Many of us though, sat up, mulling over the past events, and what fresh horrors this unknown enemy would bring.

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During the first two days of her recovery at Salamandastron, Windrose spent her time floating in-between consciousness and unconsciousness. The time was spent in the Infirmary, where the healers set the bones in her right wing and tended to her many scratches, cuts and bruises. On the third day, Windrose finally fully awoke.

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Yay! Another chapter up. The next one should be coming soon... and there is a new character introduced. She's actually one of my favorites... I think you'll all like her! 

Please review? I thrive off them, you know!


	5. Chapter Three

I hope that things start to make sense soon, as more chapters are posted. I find I am editing more as I go, and I hope that this will help.

I'm from Canada, so I have no idea of they have skunks in England, but I wanted to throw something different in. Keep the skunks in mind though, they might become important!

I find that the plot might be jumping because there are so many different story lines that don't converge until later.

Thank you all for your reviews! Keep them coming. **  
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Chapter Three**

Lady WarWing, Queen of all Sky Sparra, was in grave danger. Single-handedly she fought a half-grown adder. He was more than a match for the small bird, whose wing was hanging in tatters at her side. The adder reared and swayed, singing its name, while WarWing hopped desperately to evade him.

"Ssserperan, Ssserperan," its hypnotic voice called. Suddenly, a piercing war cry shattered the air.

"Log-a-log-a-log-a-loggg!" Five Gousim shrews leapt into the clearing to the Queen's aid. One shrew pulled Lady WarWing to the edge of the clearing and started binding her wounds. The other shrews were locked in deathly combat with the adder. Their colorful rapiers flashed in the sunlight.

One male, slightly bigger than the rest, called out to a short, tough looking female, "Renegald, run back to camp and rouse Log-a-Log. Bring back the best warriors we have. This adder isn't giving up without a fight!"

Renegald, an unusual shrew with light cream flecks in her glossy brown fur, leapt from the fray, streaking away through the trees.

WarWing lay exhausted, but she called to the healer who had dragged out of the fray, "My dear shrew, would you be as kind as to bring me my bone whistle lying over there, by the elm?" Tallum was slightly taken aback by the sparrow's educated talk. Few could speak in such a manner, except for the Redwall mice. Tallum crept silently towards the tree, snatched the whistle, and hurriedly brought it back to the Queen.

A shrill blast startled the fierce warriors, but all were soon engaged again. Just as the situation seemed to be turning in the favor of the serpent, a number of shrews leapt to the rescue. Bravely they fought. Very soon a number of sparrows joined in the fray, darting, confusing Serperan. Finally the great beast laid still, and the warriors left.

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When the group of bedraggled warriors arrived at the Gousim camp, they were beseeched by a group of young shrews. Over the clamor of their adoration, Tallum invited Lady WarWing and her fellow sparrows to her tent.

"My husband, Brawn, is a far better healer than I am. I much prefer being a warrior." She was interrupted by a burly shrew ducking out of a tent behind her.

"I beg your pardon my dear, but I do believe you are gravely mistaken." Brawn hugged Tallum gently and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Tallum," he continued, "my sweet little buttercup, you do wonders with your healing. Though first we must invite our guests in."

As the other sparrows hopped after Tallum, Brawn motioned WarWing aside. He cleared his throat, obviously unsure as how to address the Lady.

"Lady WarWing, Queen of all Sky Sparra." She provided.

"Yes, WarWing," he cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you would stay back from the festivities this evening? I feel the need to treat you wounds, as adders are very dangerous. We need to make sure that your wing doesn't get infected." WarWing nodded in agreement, and Brawn continued. "I won't be able heal your wing to a flying state, but I know where you could go for that."

"Where might that be?" Lady WarWing inquired.

"Redwall Abbey." Brawn replied, smiling. "They have many accomplished healers. Their knowledge extends back farther than anybeast can remember."

Soon Brawn was mixing a paste to spread on WarWing's wounds. "This should stop them from getting dirty of infected." He commented as he worked.

Brawn spread the tar like mixture on sparrow's wounds and rebound them with fresh, homespun bandages.

"There, that should do for now." WarWing nodded her thanks, and Brawn continued, "We should probably call Log-a-Log in to discuss your transportation to Redwall."

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As Log-a-Log, Brawn, Tallum and Lady WarWing sat down to discuss their predicament, Banock and Renegald came in.

Banock snapped to attention, saluted smartly, and reported, "Log-a-Log, we have important news."

"At ease my son, and you, Renegald." Log-a-Log saluted back with his rapier. "Report away."

Banock began, "Well, after you sent us on our way, we met a group of otters from Redwall. They have extended and invitation for you and a small group to join them at their Nameday Feast. It is in three days time. They also told us of a group of woodlanders they came across. They were on the run from Tragon the Traitor, and have now taken refuge at Redwall Abbey. Tragon seems to be on the move; he is slowly coming southward. This also seems to be the first that any of the Redwallers have heard of Tragon. If he was to attack this area, I fear that we would not come out the victors. Redwall Abbey is woefully unprepared, as are many in Mossflower, having experienced many years of peace." He shook his head at the end of his statement and sighed. Very carefully, Renegald brushed her paw against his in a comforting gesture.

Log-a-log sighed at this new predicament. "There is not much we can do right now. Please continue scouting the area, but widen our searches, and double the amount of patrollers. Make sure they are going out more frequently, but be sure that no one, absolutely no one, is alone. Make sure that our shrews are in groups of at least two, preferably three. Dismissed."

The two shrews exited their leader's tent, and Log-a-log turned to his companions. "We must get to Redwall Abbey as soon as possible. This is terrible news. Runners will have to be dispatched immediately to Salamandastron and any surrounding colonies. Those not strong enough to fight will have to band together and seek refuge, whether at Redwall or Salamandastron, I don't know. I fear greatly for our safety." The other nodded in grim agreement.

On a slightly happier note, Log-a-log continued, "We can think of these things tomorrow, though. Tonight is to be a night of celebration; let's keep it that way."

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That night, during the festivities, Banock and Renegald snuck off. They met under the shadows of a huge elm tree. Its leaves glowed silver in the moonlight.

"You know I love you, don't you Renegald? Answer me truthfully."

"Banock, I wear the colors of my warrior, don't I?" She gently showed Banock the scarf tied around the upper part of her left arm. It was the same color as the headband tied around Banock's forehead.

"I know. It's just that with everything going on and Tragon headed south, I might never see you again."

"Don't talk that way," she chided. "We'll be together always, whether now or in the dark forest."

"I'd prefer now." Banock commented ruefully.

"I know." Renegald softly replied.

The moonlight played through the trees while the couple below danced the night away to the faint trilling of a flute.

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Serperan was slowly stirring. The shrews and sparrows had attacked him furiously, giving no quarter. The silver and black snake slid slowly through the clearing, and into the welcoming trees beyond.

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The mutterings were growing in Tragon's army. Everybeast was pawsore and tired, though no one openly questioned the Traitor's rule. Even though no beast lived after defying his word, the mutterings continued.

"What are they saying?" Tragon questioned his rat captain.

"They are saying you are pushing them too hard." He answered.

"Then give them a rest. A few days, no longer. Continue, though, with all scouting parties." Tragon smirked evilly.

"W-w-what?" the captain stammered, shocked at the statement his leader had just offered.

"I think you have forgotten what happened last night…" Tragon said coldly, eyes narrowing. His claw was slowly fingering the handle of his whip, reminding the rat captain of just what it could do.

"N-n-no, m'lord, I d-d-didn't."

Tragon pointed outside, to where a pole stood in the middle of the camp.

"Don't forget again." Tragon said on a dangerously sweet voice.

Something long and thin lashed through the air.

Tragon slowly pulled in his whip, the limp form of the rat captain falling to the ground.

"Take him away," he said dismissively to the raccoons standing nearby. "We don't want his useless body smelling up my tent, now do we?"

"No m'lord, never." The two raccoons simultaneously intoned.

"Good. Then get going."

The Traitor's whip cracked the air one last time.

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I hope you all liked this chapter. This is the last of what I have written down, so all the next stuff will probably be comeing much slower. I am desperately looking for a beta; one who knows Redwall stuff. If you are interested, please contact me. And review! I thrive off reviews, they keep me going. If anything, at least drop a line and say you read some! 

Kennedy


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